A Genetic Male Pansexual. Queer Identified and Living in Durham, NC.

Molly and me and the crack makes three

In writing about my discovery that the one I live with has become addicted to crack I've forgotten to say anything about the here and now.

He is staying at the house of someone he's known for a long time. He has no money, no car. Mostly he sleeps.

In a sense I'm using the other guy's home as a sort of halfway house. It keeps him from harming himself or me.

Next week he'll make arrangements to be classified by Duke University Medical Center's substance abuse program.

I have little faith in the therapy racket. In my heart I'm already single again and if I could find somebody to spend time with I would. In a heartbeat.

Technically I'm giving him one more chance. But there doesn't seem to be much – any? - feeling left. Again, if the right person were in reach I'd be stretching my arm out.

His love of his drugs is so deeply rooted I think he'll have to lie in the gutter to be made well again. Or die. If one weighs a life by the relative measure of pain and pleasure then death may be a mercy for him.

Comments

Richard, my heart goes out to you. I’ve been there on both sides, although (thank God) the demon wasn’t crack, but other chemicals and juices. Basically, I guess, one does what one can and lives with the results. One can’t control the mind or actions of another. Sad, but true. Let’s be hopeful that Duke can help.

His love of his drugs is so deeply rooted I think he’ll have to lie in the gutter to be made well again. Or die. If one weighs a life by the relative measure of pain and pleasure then death may be a mercy for him.